Proven Cures for Night Terrors
by youandyourlilies
Summary: In which Shoot has a reoccurring nightmare and Knuckle helps in the only way he knows how: Physical Affection. [Pre-Slash, rated for gorey images]


Cross-posting from AO3.

* * *

The butterflies had plagued Shoot's dreams since the invasion. Blood red wings would glide across his consciousness, swarming the empty recesses of his mind. They would circle in closer and closer until he felt his body completely covered by their tiny, weightless forms. Shoot was never bleeding at the start of the dream, but as the butterflies' enveloped him he could feel the warm liquid run down his body as the winged creatures began to eat away at him. He was usually down to bare guts and bone by the time he woke up, barely holding in a panicked scream.

Drenched in sweat, Shoot would survey the room, glancing around to make sure that_ yes_, he was home and not lying half-dead on a crumbled battlefield. _No_, his body was still intact and there wasn't a single open wound on him. There were _no_ bloodthirsty insects raring to eat him alive….

And _yes_, of course Knuckle was still in the bed adjacent to his, snoring away.

With the phantom smell of musty copper still fresh in his mind, Shoot sighed with shaky relief, slipped back down into his bed and tried to quiet his pounding heart.

* * *

It wasn't unusual for Shoot to wake up panting with a racing heartbeat. It also wasn't unusual for him to be disoriented for the first moments of awareness. It was, however, unusual for someone else's arm to be draped over his midsection and a warm body to be pressed into his side. Shoot didn't need to look down to know who it was, but he does and it still causes a sharp intake of breath when he sees the familiar mop of dark hair on his pillow.

"You were thrashin' around in your sleep," Knuckle explained, not opening his eyes and not moving either. "Tried wakin' you up but you wouldn't budge." That didn't explain /why/ Knuckle had crawled into bed with him and Shoot stared at the offending appendage across his stomach with wariness. After a long, pointed silence, Knuckle sighed and pulled on Shoot's arm.

"Go back to sleep," he commanded, yawning and letting his hand flop back down. Something inside Shoot froze over for a split second, before he shook the feeling off and cautiously lowered himself back down into Knuckles arms.

Shoot dreamt of nothing for the remainder of the night and for the first time since the invasion he was well rested when he awoke in the morning. He was surprised to wake up to sun on his face and not the feeling of a million small bugs gnawing away at his flesh. He wasn't surprised to see his bed otherwise vacant. Knuckle had slipped away before Shoot had woken up, but the other side of the sheets still felt warm.

* * *

Before Shoot even realized it, their nocturnal ritual of Knuckle calming him down from his nightmarish visions and sleeping in his bed had become routine instead of a once in a blue moon occurrence. The realization dawned on him one night when instead of lying down in his own bed, Knuckle had nudged Shoot over and curled up next to him.

"What are you doing?" It was a stupid question, but Shoot's mind had gone blank and could not come up with any reasonable explanation for Knuckle's behavior. The person in question just snorted and glared at Shoot.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing," Knuckle grunted. '_It looks like you're getting too comfortable here_,' Shoot thought, frowning at the other man. After a stretch of silence, he accepted Knuckle's logic (_it's just easier to go where I'm gonna end up, right?_) and turned off the lamp. It took another few seconds to get his nerves in check and lay down next to his partner. He told himself that the pounding in his ears and his heated face were just in preparation for the nightmares, not because of how Knuckle threw his arms around Shoot and buried his face into his shoulder.

Shoot is pleasantly surprised when he wakes up in the morning from an undisturbed night of sleep. The other side of the bed was once again empty and he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

* * *

There came a night a few months after they agreed to share a bed when Shoot woke up around three in the morning. It had been a long time since he had woken up in the middle of the night and panic began to seep in as he stared up at the ceiling. Had the nightmares returned? Was having Knuckle as a human security blanket no longer working? Shoot feared those possibilities for a minute before he heard loud gasps from his side. He rolled over to see Knuckle clutching at the sheets, skin taut and white against his fist. He tossed his head back and forth and let out a shallow breath before sucking it back in through his nose.

Shoot's arm moved without thinking and he leaned over the other man to shake Knuckle in an attempt to wake him. His friend didn't respond at first and continued to thrash around in his sleep. Feeling bile rise up in his throat, Shoot moved his hand to Knuckle's face, trying to soothe the man.

"Wake up," he said, just above a whisper. Knuckle's forehead wrinkled and he hissed through his clenched teeth. "It's only nightmare. Wake up, Knuckle."

Shoot nudged his arm again before he raked a hand through Knuckle's hair. Shoot had no idea where he was getting the guts to touch Knuckle so brazenly, but concern for his friend had overruled his usual reservations.

Knuckles eyelids squeezed together and Shoot moved his hand down to the man's shoulder as he opened them. Knuckle's eyes looked bloodshot and his scowl wary. He blinked a few times before his sight adjusted and focused in on the person leaning over him. The two of them went still and stared at each other for what seems to be an eternity.

Knuckle was remarkably the first one to avert his eyes. He mumbled what seems to be a 'thank you' and tried to roll over away from Shoot.

"Are you…" Shoot felt something sink inside of him, unable to finish the question. Knuckle gave a noncommittal snort. Considering he had been having what seemed to have been a fairly intense nightmare just moments before, Shoot felt that his worry for Knuckle wasn't something out of the left field. "Do you want to—?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it," Knuckle hissed, shoulders hunching up. He shrugged away the hand Shoot still had on his shoulder. Shoot's chest felt heavy and he found he couldn't stop staring at the back of Knuckle's head. He wanted to say something, anything to make Knuckle turn back around and talk to him, but his mouth had gone dry and no sound came out when he tried to speak. Knuckle kept his shoulders hunched up, undoubtedly aware of the way Shoot was looking at him. It was late and both should be fast asleep. Yet neither of them could bring themselves to close their eyes.

Minutes went by before Shoot averted his eyes. "Alright," he whispered, crawling back down under the sheets. He lay facing the ceiling for a brief second before he turned over and threw an arm over Knuckle. The other man froze up, not moving an inch as Shoot rested his head against the top of Knuckle's and made himself comfortable. Heartbeat pulsing loud throughout his body, Shoot's hand searched for Knuckle's and he intertwined their fingers. Shoot gave him a squeeze before he committed to falling back asleep. He drifted off with the smell of Knuckle's hair and the faint sensation of his hand being squeezed back.

They both woke up the same time the next morning, and for the first time the bed wasn't halfway empty when the sun rose.


End file.
